逃离

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This was the summer of rain and more rain. They heard it first thing in the morning， loud on the roof of the 1）mobile home. The trails were deep in mud， the long grass soaking， leaves overhead sending down random showers even in those moments when there was no actual downpour from the sky. Carla wore a widebrimmed old Australian 2）felt hat every time she went outside， and tucked her long thick braid down her shirt.

Nobody showed up for trail rides—even though Clark and Carla had gone around posting signs at all the 3）campsites， in the cafés， and on the tourist-office 4）bulletin board， and anywhere else they could think of. Only a few pupils were coming for lessons， and those were regulars， not the batches of schoolchildren on vacation or the busloads from summer camps that had kept them going the summer before. And even the regulars took time off for holiday trips， or simply cancelled their lessons because of the weather. If they called too late， Clark charged them anyway. A couple of them had argued， and quit for good.

There was still some income from the three horses that were boarded. Those three， and the four of their own， were out in the field now， poking disconsolately in the grass under the trees. They looked as if they couldn’t be bothered to notice that the rain was holding off for the moment， the way it often did for a while in the afternoon. Just enough to get your hopes up—the clouds whitening and thinning and letting through a diffuse brightness that never got around to being real sunshine， and was usually gone before supper.

Carla had finished 5）mucking out in the barn. She had taken her time—she liked the rhythm of her regular 6）chores， the high space under the barn roof， the smells. Now she went over to the exercise ring to see how dry the ground was， in case the five-o’clock pupil did show up.

Most of the steady showers had not been particularly heavy， but last week there had come a sudden stirring and then a blast through the treetops and a nearly horizontal blinding rain. The storm had lasted only a quarter of an hour， but branches still lay across the road， hydro lines were down， and a large chunk of the plastic roofing over the ring had been torn loose. There was a puddle like a lake at that end of the track， and Clark had worked until dark digging a channel to drain it away.

The roof had not yet been repaired. Clark had strung fence wire across to keep the horses from getting into the mud， and Carla had marked out a shorter track.

On the Web， right now， he was hunting for a place to buy roofing. Some salvage outlet， with prices that they could afford， or somebody trying to get rid of such material， secondhand. He would not go to Hy and Robert Buckley’s Building Supply in town， which he called Highway Robbers Buggery Supply， because he owed them money and had had a fight with them.

Clark often had fights， and not just with the people he owed money to. His friendliness， compelling at first， could suddenly turn sour. There were places in town that he would not go into， because of some 7）row. The drugstore was one such place. An old woman had pushed in front of him—that is， she had gone to get something she’d forgotten and come back and pushed in front， rather than going to the end of the line， and he had complained， and the cashier had said to him， “She has 8）emphysema.” Clark had said， “Is that so？ I have 9）piles myself，” and the manager had been summoned to tell him that that remark was uncalled for. And in the coffee shop out on the highway the advertised breakfast discount had not been allowed， because it was past eleven o’clock in the morning， and Clark had argued and then dropped his takeout cup of coffee on the floor—just missing， so they said， a child in its 10）stroller. He claimed that the child was half a mile away and he’d dropped the cup because no sleeve had been provided. They said that he hadn’t asked for a sleeve. He said that he shouldn’t have had to ask.

“You flare up，” Carla said.

“That’s what men do.”

She had not said anything about his row with Joy Tucker. Joy Tucker was the librarian from town who boarded her horse with them. The horse was a quick-tempered little chestnut 11）mare named Lizzie—Joy Tucker， when she was in a jokey mood， called her 12）Lizzie Borden. Yesterday， she had driven out， not in a jokey mood at all， and complained about the roof’s not being fixed yet， and Lizzie looking miserable， as if she might have caught a chill.

There was nothing the matter with Lizzie， actually. Clark had even tried—for him—to be placating. But then it was Joy Tucker who flared up and said that their place was a dump， and Lizzie deserved better， and Clark said， “Suit yourself.” Joy had not—or not yet—removed Lizzie， but Clark， who had formerly made the mare his pet， refused to have anything more to do with her. Lizzie’s feelings were hurt， in consequence—she was balky when exercised and kicked up a fuss when her hoofs had to be picked out， as they did every day， lest they develop a 13）fungus. Carla had to watch out for nips.

But the worst thing， as far as Carla was concerned， was the absence of Flora， the little white goat who kept the horses company in the barn and in the fields. There had been no sign of her for two days， and Carla was afraid that wild dogs or coyotes had got her， or even a bear.

She had dreamed of Flora last night and the night before. In the first dream， Flora had walked right up to the bed with a red apple in her mouth， but in the second dream—last night—she had run away when she saw Carla coming. Her leg seemed to be hurt， but she ran anyway. She led Carla to a barbed-wire barricade， the kind that might belong on some battlefield， and then she—Flora—slipped through it， hurt leg and all， just 14）slithered through like a white eel and disappeared.

那个夏天，雨下得没完没了。大清早人们听到的第一个声音就是雨声，很响地打在拖车房顶上。小路上泥泞很深，长长的草吸饱了水，即使有些时候天上并没有真的下雨，头上的树叶也会随时洒下一阵雨粉。卡拉每次出门，都要戴一顶高高的澳大利亚宽边旧毡帽，并且把她那条又粗又长的辫子掖进衬衫里。

来练习骑马的客人寥寥——虽然克拉克和卡拉没少走路，在他们能想起来的所有野营地、咖啡屋里都树起了广告牌，在旅行社的布告栏里也都贴上了广告。只有很少几个学生来上骑马课，也就是那几个常客而已，没有像去年那样有一大群放暑假的小学生和一客车又一客车来夏令营的小家伙给他们带来红火的生意。即便是旧学员，现在也大都外出度假去了，或是因为天气太差而退班了。如果他们退班的电话打晚了，克拉克还要跟他们把账算清楚，该收的钱一个都不能少。有几个学员嘀嘀咕咕表示不满，以后就再也不露面了。

从寄养在他们这儿的三匹马身上，他们还能赚点小钱。这三匹马，连同他们自己的那四匹，此刻正放养在外面的田野里，在树底下闷啃着草觅食。雨暂时歇息了，马儿的表情却对此全然不在意。这种情况在下午是会出现片刻的，也就是刚能勾起你的希望罢了——云变得白了一些，薄了一些，透过来一些散漫的亮光，它们却永远也不会凝聚成真正的阳光，而且一般总是在晚饭之前就收敛了。

卡拉已经清扫完了马厩里的粪便。她做得不慌不忙的——她喜欢干日常杂活时的那种节奏，喜欢畜棚屋顶底下那宽阔的空间，以及这里的气味。现在她又走到环形训练跑道那里去看看地上够不够干，说不定五点钟那一班的学员还会来呢。

通常，一般的阵雨都不会下得特别大，可是上星期突然出现异象，树顶上刮过一阵大风，接着一阵让人睁不开眼睛的大雨几乎横扫而来。一刻钟以内，暴风雨就过去了。但是路上落满了树枝，高压电线断了，环形跑道顶上有一大片塑料屋顶给扯松脱落了。跑道的一头积起了一片像湖那么大的水潭，克拉克不得不加班干活到天黑，挖出一条沟来把水排走。

屋顶至今未能修复，克拉克只能扎起一个铁丝围栏，以防马匹走到泥潭里去，而卡拉则标记出一条稍短些的跑道。

就在此刻，克拉克在网上寻找有什么地方能买到做屋顶的材料。可能有某个清仓处理尾货的铺子，开的价是他们能够承受的，或是有没有什么人要处理这一类的二手货。他再也不去镇上的那家“海与罗伯特·伯克利”建材商店了，他已经把那店改称为“路边抢奸捞大利”建材商店，因为他欠了他们钱，而且还跟他们打过一架。

克拉克经常跟人打架，且不单单跟他的债主打。他上一分钟跟你还显得挺友好的——那原本也是装出来的——下一分钟说翻脸就翻脸。有些地方他现在不愿进去了，就是因为他跟那儿的人吵过架。药房就是这样的一个地方。有位老太太在他站的队前面加塞——其实她是去取一样她之前忘了拿的东西，回来时站回到他的前面而没有站到队尾去，他便嘀嘀咕咕抱怨起来了，那收银员对他说：“她有肺气肿呢。”克拉克就接茬说：“是吗，我有痔疮呢。”后来经理也给叫出来了，他硬要经理承认对自己不公平。还有，公路边上的一家咖啡店没给他打广告上承诺的早餐折扣，因为时间已经过了早上十一点，克拉克便跟他们吵了起来，还把外带的一杯咖啡摔到地上，店里的人说，差那么一点点就会泼到手推车里一个小娃娃的身上了。他则说那孩子离自己足足有半英里远呢，而且他没拿住杯子是因为没给他杯套。店里说他自己没说要杯套。他说这种事本来就是不需要别人问了才做的。

“你脾气也太火爆了。”卡拉说。“男人就是这样的。”

她还没提他跟乔伊·塔克吵架的事呢。乔伊·塔克是镇上的女图书馆员，把自己的马寄养在他们这里。那是一匹脾气很躁的栗色小母马，名叫丽兹——乔伊·塔克爱逗乐的时候就管它叫丽兹·玻顿。昨天她来骑过马了，心情不怎么好，抱怨说棚顶怎么还没修好，还说丽兹看上去状态不佳，是不是着凉了呀。

其实丽兹并没有什么问题。克拉克倒是——对他来说已经是很不容易了——想要息事宁人的。可是接下来发火的反而是乔伊·塔克，她指责说这块地方简直就是片垃圾场，丽兹该得到更好的待遇，于是克拉克说：“那就悉听尊便吧。”乔伊倒没有——或者是还没有——当即就把丽兹领回去，可是原来总把这匹小母马当作自己小宠物的克拉克却坚决不想再跟它有任何牵扯了。自然，丽兹在感情上也受到了伤害。在练习的时候总是跟你闹别扭，你要清理它的蹄子时它便乱踢乱蹬。马蹄是每天都必须清的，否则里面会长霉菌。卡拉还得提防着被它冷不丁地咬上一口。

不过让卡拉最不开心的一件事还得说是把弗洛拉给弄丢了，那是只小小的白山羊，老是在畜棚和田野里跟几匹马做伴。有两天都没见到它的踪影了，卡拉担心它会不会被野狗、土狼叼走了，没准是撞上了熊。

昨天晚上还有前天晚上她都梦见弗洛拉了。在第一个梦里，弗洛拉径直走到床前，嘴里叼着一只红苹果，而在第二个梦里——也就是昨晚——它看到卡拉过来，就跑开了。它一条腿似乎受了伤，但还是跑开去了，引着卡拉来到一道铁丝网栅栏的跟前，也就是某些战场上用的那一种，接下去它——也就是弗洛拉——从那底下钻过去了，受伤的脚以及整个身子，就像一条白鳗鱼似的扭着身子滑了过去，然后就不见了。

爱丽丝·门罗（Alice Muo，1931年7月10日—），加拿大作家，被誉为“加拿大的契诃夫”。1968年，门罗出版第一部小说集《快乐影子之舞》，夺得当年的加拿大最高文学奖项——总督奖；1978年，出版小说集《你认为你是谁》，这本书为她再次赢得总督奖；上世纪八九十年代的二十年里，门罗每隔四年就会出版一部短篇小说集，人们对她赞誉有加，而她也不断在国际上斩获大奖；2012年，门罗在出版了小说集《亲爱的生活》后，宣布封笔，有那么一丝遗憾的是，门罗在封笔之后才于2013年获得诺贝尔文学奖，成为诺贝尔文学奖历史上的第13位女性。

本文节选自门罗2004年出版的短篇小说集《逃离》，此书由八个故事组成，本篇便是小说集开篇的第一个同名故事——《逃离》中的一部分。这本书中每个故事的主人公都是女性且都生活在加拿大的小镇上，书中对于日常生活的细节描写是当代小说中已经遗失许久的：农活、轻淡如水的日常交际，还有生活中潜藏的些许不如意，而后这些主人公正是因为这些不如意的累积而选择逃离，其实这正是现代社会赋予我们身上的悲剧性机缘。18岁的卡拉从父母家出走后与克拉克结婚，二人以教授骑马为生，而惨淡的生意使得他们生活拮据至极，更甚的是克拉克的坏脾气也快要触及卡拉的底线了，所有的一切好像都为卡拉无法预知的下一次逃离找好了借口……